The War Adventures of Talon, the Omnibus
by Freight Bringer
Summary: In the grim dark future, there is only war. Follow Talon and Riven as they set up in separate goals, but they will never know what is in store for them. I disclaim thy Warhammer and League of Legends. Currently updating.
1. Chapter 1

note: first three CAPITAL words means a new paragraph.

_This is for the LoL and W40k nerds out there._

**IT IS THE 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day. So that he may never truly die.**

******Yet even in** his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their **coMisterades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.**

**To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.**

* * *

_"Impose me to what penance your invention  
Can lay upon my sin; yet sinned I not  
But in mistaking."_

I WAS THE only man with the 963rd Penal Legion to have survived that strike. Thousands of men lie wasted all around me, those whose bodies aren't yet vaporized at least. I was the only one and Guardsmen are still in orbit and it will take days, if not weeks, for them to plan a strike, which will be proven useless if those gun batteries are not silenced.

I and others, from the other Legions that lie scattered for miles, are sure to die alone in this hostile planet as more Necron Warriors sweep the lifeless battlefield he is now in with their terrible Gauss Flayers. This is only the scouting element of the skeletal army and yet they are all powerless even with the smallest groups. They are fast and heavily resilient even though hails of Autogun rounds fire all around them. Even a Lasgun, from all of my experience, would not be able to penetrate that armor.

The army of criminals where I belong are only there to test the Ork's frontline defenses, which was unfortunately several miles away due to the Orks destroying our landing vessel. If our luckless state isn't enough, scouts of machine helots of the Necrons are sent to terminate the remainder of us. Even with our superior numbers, their death-guns eliminated hundreds of my fellow Legionnaires faster than a flamer. I could have used this opportunity to run away and hide till the Imperial fleet sends their troops, but with this damned explosive-slave collar there is no salvation guaranteed in waiting alone.

But I will hide, no doubt. It is what kept me from dying from all those engagements. Strength, ruthlessness, marksmanship, they are all irrelevant now. There are options for approaching an enemy who is either more powerful or more numerous than you, or unknown to any. Two I know, and three that I am not allowed to even if I wished to. One was to strike first and strike hard, and never falter, never let the enemy have the opportunity to counter. Second was to retreat and strike from the shadows, taking advantage of what chaos can be created along the way and killing and obliterating as much as my luck goes.

The first was out of the question. There are only I and I alone cannot strike as noble as the Space Marines. I pray and pray to the God-Emperor of Mankind to at least let me see a Space Marine before the end, but my prayers are yet to be answered. And so I have to survive till the day I reach for the answer, taking the second course then.

I have faced these skeletal monstrosities before, about twelve times and I know how to kill them. There are five of them around me, the same scouts who had killed my fellow man alone. With my Autogun alone, the rounds will surely bounce off from their bodies harmlessly. And if it did penetrate, the Necrodermis tissues would commence self-repairing and be in top shape in a few minutes. The one way I know how to harm the Necron Warriors is with their own gun.

As a Warrior approach on me, which I is down playing dead, their silent stares stabbing at my skull, I quickly pulled it's gun, firing on the ground, and used a nearby rock and slammed in its face. Immediately, I aimed the Gauss Flayer at it and fired. The molecular dissembling green beam worked quickly on its own owner, almost instantaneously disintegrating its torso, stripping atom by atom of vendigris, till it is only limbs and a skull.

The others reacted without delay, but I was too fast before they could aim. Dodging and rolling to one side, I fired the teal-colored beam again and hit another which cried a tooth rattling shriek as it shuddered under the invisible impact.

I took cover behind a boulder as they fired simultaneously at it. The moment when they stopped to recharge their beams, I took my chances and fired my own. The Necron I aimed sidesteps, taking a glancing hit but disintegrating one of its arms instead.

Another run for my life, they followed me with their sights and fired again. I dived at a muddy pool, nearly died by their death rays. When I found the muddy floor in the pool, I kicked and resurfaced, launching another beam. The robot I struck fell down with a hole in its chest.

Taking a deep breath, I sunk down as they fire faultily. I popped out of the water and aimed at nothing. Keeping my head low, I peered out in the open and saw the two remaining Necrons running away. These machine-serviles are known for known for their undying motivation of exterminating anything that is not their kind, without emotion and remorse. But some, I have observed, is aware of their self-preservation. Fight and die another day, I imagine. Still, these aliens are unfit to live under the gaze of my God-Emperor. And so I aimed my Gauss Flayer and shot the one running.

"Extinction shall be your fate, xenos-scum!" I bellowed, letting the remnant hear, the one-armed one, so to continue relaying my Lord's judgement and message to their kin.

I HAVE TO save the planet in order to save myself. The gun batteries is a long trek, but if I don't quicken my pace, this world of blue and green may have to receive Exterminatus, along me myself with it.

Gathering all the resources I can, I have observed this place quite well. I am here on the crash site where the ground is muddy with blood and brain-meat and air filled with death-stench. The landing ship perpetually burns and there is nothing to salvage therefore. I am in some sort of plain, green and peace are in order. It is vast and wide as if it would stretch out throughout the universe if it has to, and I could have enjoyed the peacefulness of this area if it weren't for this damned collar.

I ignored the Autoguns and its ammunitions, since they would be useless in this kind of fighting. At least I'll bring some if I have to. But there is no need for me to fight the enemy head-on, which would ultimately be suicidal—if my state is not suicidal already. There is no sight of the Colonel who was supposed to lead the group. He is not one of the corpses. Either he was killed by the Necron, flew out of the vacuum the large hole on the ship while on air, or his meat cooked in the inferno. Either all ways, I wouldn't be able to loot his Laspistol.

I have considered using the Gauss Flayer that was left behind, but I never did trust xenos weapons. The Necrons defile this weapon's machine-spirit, as all with the other alien machinery. And, also, I won't risk to be seen by an Adeptus Mechanicus with it. And that would be another penal sentence for me after. It would be safer to not run my luck any longer, because Lady Luck is a whore and I am fresh out of money. I better leave it to just that, but that also leaves me almost unarmed.

No matter. I have found more ways to kill foes, even aliens, unarmed than relying on sticks to do a better job. Ironically, my job here wasn't to survive at all, as my duty would end in death, and the God-Emperor of Mankind would give me pardon for my crimes. Yet I am here in the Emperor's grace, and I could feel His gaze, observing on how would I fare the challenges He sets for me. Besides, Orks tend to have the tendency to leave their weapons quite frequently.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**The truth is, this is the second time I have posted this fic on this site. The first one was a bit rushed and the wording is wrong in many places. I knew it was mediocre by comparison, and I could have done a bit more to improve the story. That's why I deleted this in the first place in order to develop it better. The only thing I'm really, _really, _worried about is the progress. When I imagined the story, there seems to be no end to the scenery. It's gone stale, it got boring, and my reason for doing that is because of details. Which really scares me because it doesn't end. **

**This is only a test run. I'll keep posting, but maybe on Saturday or something.**


	2. Chapter 2

"SISTER RIVEN," SAID behind me.

I turned and bowed lowly. "Yes, Prioress?"

"What do you observe? Honestly, if need be."

I looked to the projector. "In the Emperor's name, we will succeed indefinitely."

In the Battle Barge Valoran, it is here I observe the planet. It is said to be Terra in thirty-eight millennia ago, rich with natural resources and wildlife that would serve as a proper colony in years to come. Now the planet is accursed with Orks, Necrons, Tyrranids and Tau. And there would also a rumor of Eldar as well, even Chaos taint the minds of the colonists and made them heretics. They have come here months ago and came with small numbers, yet they have grown in the new environment and they swell. Out in the space, the battle cruisers and hive ships are atomized and no longer a help to their xenos brethren on planet-side.

The projector viewed images of the hundreds of planetary defense emplacements around the western sector of the large continent. Even though the God-Emperor of Mankind sent many to help conquering this planet, such as the Imperial Guard and the Space Marines, there seems to be no other way around the Orks. The mountains are inaccessible because the Tau and probably the Eldar are guarding it, and the ocean is also impossible since there are swarms of aquatically evolved Tyranids that lurks deep on the ocean floor. There the only available site is the plains, which is infested by the greenskins, and which is the graveyard of the Imperial colony.

Cousins and Guardsmen discuss quietly on one side as servitors monitor and analyzing the data they acquire from the scry-scans. An occasional thud from the guns from the planet hitting the hull of the Valoran, but most are absorbed by the Void Shields this ships psykers manifests.

One of my cousins came near with his helmet under his armpit. His power armor is crimson as fresh blood and lined black as the night sky. He also has veteran laurels on his armor. An experienced warrior, but young. "My Prioress," he said to her, bowing slightly. I would have shot him in the face with my Bolter for such insolence if not for the Prioress.

"Speak."

"Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Captain Darius of the Blood Noxia." I could see their Chapter's insignia on his shoulder guard. It is a black drop encasing a golden skull, with precious rubies embedded on the eye sockets. "We know we discussed the plan of extermination of the alien life of this planet, but I give you one more chance to reconsi—"

"Our minds are set, Astartes. We agreed to this for the last time, and I will not repeat for the sake of your mediocre mind, and you _will _obey."

"Many good men will die later, uselessly. And some of them are mine."

"And so is mine! Do you think I haven't considered the lives of my sisters? To wage battle against the enemies of our Emeperor there is always a cost, a risk. You know your men, and they know well their lives and talents will be served well in the fields of battle. Hoard them if you like, but know that they are not meant for idleness, and such are thus the cause of heresy. Are you afraid of their deaths that would inevitably serve glory in His name?"

"I know well that they are to be spent. We all die, we will die. Yet a life is best spent if they are to fight for something other than this folly."

"You speak of heresy. Is dying for the Golden Throne isn't enough for a cause?"

"Not in waste they can't. And there is no heresy in here, Prioress. I only want for my brothers to fight without being blasted off from the sky without the chance to serve rightfully." And so he marched off.

She turned to me. "Riven."

"Yes, Prioress?"

After a moment of silence, she said, "Never mind. I just want you to be in top shape when this battle goes on."

"As you command." Turning back to the projector, the guns are firing unceasingly without avail. But my mind hasn't left off from the conversation earlier.

Brother-Captain Darius insist on continuous planetary bombardment till the xenos would be unable to retaliate, but all the rest are against his suggestion. It would take months in order for this excursion to complete and many will die at our side also. But the reward outweighs the cost, it so seems.

The Space Marine still insists, at least a tactical bombardment on silencing the defense guns, but the majority holds for many near the guns are near our objective, and so it is clear. Many would die, yes. But the Imperium of Man will endure after and so our fates are sealed, and it goes to all of us.

"Lord-Captain?" asked a low ranked crewman at the monitorium. "There is a man on the central Ork base."

This gave shock and audible gasps in the room. "Place it on the main screen. There shouldn't be anyone left alive two days ago." The last one was whispered to himself, but yet it reached my ears.

The gas-lens focused on a massive Ork base. The sight of xenos brought anger and disgust to all of us, as they are abominations to the God-Emperor of Mankind. Look at them, a chaotic lowly fiendish greenskins scattered in a muddy pile of bile, where they rightfully belong. The view zoomed into one of those piles.

"I don't see anything," mentioned Darius.

"Patience, milord." And then the screen shifted to infrared. At once I recognize the figure of a man. It seems idle at first, but I noticed it move, inching forward.

"The Guardsmen on that planet are supposed to be dead," a Dreadnought beside Darius named Sion talked the first time which surprised half the room.

"Aye," replied his Captain. "And yet this one survives."

"We have drones on that area, have we?" questioned the Lord-Captain.

"Aye, milord," said the servant. "We have remoted a servo-skull near the area."

"Show us."

And so the screen changed again, showing a fully detailed image of the man through the eyes of the skull. It seems that this one is almost unrecognizable from a real figure of human without the infrared, but he had the shape of one, barely.

He moves as if he's a snake, crawling in the mud without lifting himself, and yet he leaves no trace. The pace is slow, but the destination is recognizable. An Ork armory.

"To venture deep into alien territory," my Prioress began, toward me, "must be stressful."

"To venture deep intoalien territory is suicidal."

"And yet he still lives," I nodded in agreement. But to what end?

"Monitor his status," commanded the Lord-Captain. "See if he surprises us."

"Riven," my Prioress called, "Send the Inquisitor to me."

"As you command."

IN THE DIM corridors of the starship's stern, a grim figure of pure black with red linings. He heard my approach but made no attempt of questioning me. His face idled with tattoos and dread scars, most surrounding his horrifying eyes. He was gazing through the meter-thick crystalline window toward the stars, looks as if he was a child. Both his arms rested on the adamantium sills, peering inertly to the endless black void.

"Inquisitor Warwick." I bowed lowly, even though I hated to.

"Anything I can help, cousin?" he asked with a gruff voice, without turning his head. His eyes heavily entrenched on one target, which was nothing on my perspective. I had a look in those eyes of his, and I could see the hard stoned will in them. If he were to wear armor, aside from the garments, I would have thought of him as a Space Wolf.

"The Prioress wants to have a word with you."

"On what purpose?"

"That is for you to find out."

"Waste, waste…" he said idly, waving his hand at me. "To talk without purpose? I see no resolution to it. Go back and ask it, would you kindly."

I grew annoyed at his disrespectful tone. My blood pumped and my fists balled, but I didn't give him the satisfaction.

"What is it you want?" This time he turned his head. "Are you deaf or dumb? Because I couldn't comprehend the look on your face."

"You would defy her summons?" I asked in sheer annoyance that it almost turned to tone anger. I clearly want to remake his face as it did with our Emperor had.

"Then speak with reasoning. What reason does she need me for? Aside from the Orders Hospitaller." He grinned at, what would be my guess, my Sister Soraka, who Warwick tried to 'steal' her heart days ago at the Valoran's Ionia sectorum. It was enough to be charged of heresy and me personally slicing his head off, assaulting one of the Daughters of the Emperor, if it wasn't for my Prioress' pardon, due to his ranking in the Ordo Hereticus. Sister Soraka is protected by a band of volunteers of the Orders Militant, ready to fend off Warwick's future attempts. I still am disgusted by the thought of it.

I wanted to retort, but time is of the essence. I gave him what he wants, even though I thought against it. "We have found a human survivor on the planet." My words brought out a hint of surprise on his face, but he let me continue. "As the Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, you have the sufficient datum of those who are enlisted in the Penal Legions."

"An accursed Legionnaire would be less likely to survive, and less worth my attention."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it appears not. Either he is a Guardsman or sinful Legionnaire, you are still needed to report to the bridge, immediately."

He nodded grimly. "I suppose I would have to identify him too, unless he is shot to the face, that is."

AT THE BRIDGE, the image still sports the crawling survivor. It is as if he hasn't moved from the time I left for the Inquisitor. Warwick busied himself on entertaining the Lord-Captain and my Prioress. My eyes then focused on the man himself.

He is near the Ork armory now and steadied himself as he stands laboriously. To keep silent would be exaggerated on his part. Even the Officio Assassinorum would laugh at his work, but although I found it quite effective.

The dirt was falling down all over his body, revealing the man who is somehow covered in rugged sacks, from head to toe. Slowly, he lifted his mask and the servo-skull zoomed in on his face. What revealed from the bag was a tanned-skin face with a mark of penitence on his cheek. I touched mine unconsciously and remembered my crime, but I let the past drown in my sea of memory and focused on his eyes. His brown eyes blank and expressionless, but determined and steward as if he was a veteran of this kind of action. On his neck is undoubtedly a slave-collar, meaning he is a Legionnaire after all.

"Ah," I heard Warwick said satisfyingly. "He lives yet again."

"You know this sinner?" asked the Space Marine, Darius.

"Know him? I have every record of all his engagements, three hundred thirty-two of them, at least."

"Three hundred thirty-two?! I'm surprised he is not pardoned."

"Let's just say that the Colonel leading the 963rd was squirrelling him. Too bad he's dead along the rest."

"Except for the blight. What is his name?"

"His records went missing after his 3rd engagement, and there seems to be tampering with his memory, as the witch-kins informed. He has forgotten what his name was, where he was born, but he knows what his crime against the Throne."

"Which is?"

"Theft and murder. Nothing else."

"Pity, but there is a purpose in His way. Maybe it this is the time to be released from his penitence. But it is for the God-Emperor to decide his fate. Who is the holder of this man's burden?"

"The Colonel was the last of the holders of that Legion. In succession, it would be up to Lord-General Militant Marcus Du Couteau."

"No others?"

"It appears so."

"Contact him, and tell the latest news of his Legions."

"I am not a messenger, Astartes."

"Then someone out there send the message!" Darius shouted into the room, and they quickly worked on his command.

I looked at the figure and uttered a prayer for his survival, and a miracle.

* * *

**Author's Note: If you're wondering, most of my works are a collage of references. For example, 'the 963rd Penal Legion' and '3rd engagement'. Seems like a random number, but actually it's the year and month which Iron Man came out as a comic book, which I am a fan. There's also a lot of references in my other Talon/Riven fic 'The Misadventures of Talon'. Try finding them all if you want, but if you don't want to, just ignore them. **

**Next chapter coming out next week.**

**PS-If Singed would be in the world, what should he be? Would he be an Apothecary? Or a Magos Biologis?**


	3. Chapter 3

I TOOK OFF my mask and looked around. Not a single greenskin caught my scent. I slowly pushed the armory door and searched for the item I seek, ignoring the offensive scent that the xenos beseeched on their weapons. I seek for the only weapon I need for this task. Barrels of Sluggas and Choppas lay plenty in the armory, but I won't risk using it. Not that the Adeptus Mechanicus would mind, or the fact they are poor in maintaining their machine-spirits, but also the kind of diseases that plagued their weapons with their tainted hands and their fungus. Even though it's tempting to use a Big Shoot or a Rokkit Launcha or a Kustom Mega Blasta, I must not risk my limbs, as it is still in service to the Emperor.

And then, I laid my eyes on the items I need. Stikkbomz, one of the most used explosives in their foul-full front-lines, and I have them in stacks. Putting them carefully in a sack, with my hands covered with rugs (in order to touch them without infecting my hands) and tied them with great might. I then placed three more layers of sacks in cases a hole will tore open after His blessings are abused for much longer. Without time to waste, I walked on with my baggage to His path and used the ladder to move to the rooftop.

There I could see my target, just a mile away. An Ork planetary defense gun emplacement, tall as a mighty tower, with tubes that can fit tanks; the building wide as a fort, and just as foul as cesspools. Each round fired ceaselessly toward the heavens, defiant to the Emperor's judgement. Each round thunderous of a million cries of agony that Man has to suffer. I must stop it, to end that suffering, in the Emperor's name.

I WATCHED HIM carefully through the monitorium, eager to know what is his next move. There are others who had taken the same interest, but with lesser expectations. But by the God-Emperor, there must be a some divine purpose for his survival. I believe, in Him, that there _is _a reason.

"What madness is he doing?" Darius asked. The survivor has successfully infiltrated in the defense battery.

"It appears," I answered, "he plans to sabotage."

"An entire battery?!" the Lord-Captain exclaimed. "He thinks himself the entire Crusade to enter into such folly!"

"But if he does deem successful with his exploits," said the Brother-Captain, "so far."

"A hole will be left ajar," finished Sion. "An opening enough for a whole Chapter to exploit. A base may be built and our campaign can start there."

"By any means," basked the Lord-Captain, "only if the fate of the God-Emperor rests on his hide, but if He so chooses to let this man live and succesfully burned down the battery, then it is a gift from Himself that we should take pleasure."

"Then what is our plan of exploit?" said one of my cousin Battle-Brother under Darius.

The Captain moved towards the map cogitator and let alight the holograms of the target area. He waved the other leaders to come in. But even so, I was curious also on the path of His invasion. I moved beside of my Prioress, which no one seems to mind.

"_If_ he so does shut down the defenses," Brother-Captain Darius began, "lives will be saved tenfold than what is originally planned." He then gave a queer gaze of my Prioress in order to prove the point. "A base of operations will be settled here on the camp after we burn it. Then we can move outward and conquer the area piece by piece. It will be a laborious task, but with will and prayer, it will be a glorious victory for the Golden Throne.

"First, there will be anti-ship guns," pointing at the miniature figures of Kill Kroozers, "will challenge our descent from orbit. Their escorts can be dealt quickly, but the flagship will be a problem. I've seen them perforate our Thunderhawks as if they are paper."

"Then I suggest a boarding party," said my Prioress. Darius began to chuckle as if my Prioress words are humor, which has deeply offended me and my Sisters. But I must display patience, as is in the words of our God-Emperor, even though my genes tell me to rip his jaw.

"So you have fancy the tales of Captain Titus of the Ultramarines," he said in jest, which may have taken my last suggestion into consideration once more, but I steeled myself yet, not giving him the pleasure to manipulate my emotions. "There are foolishness in his part to disguide themselves from the Codex Astartes. Who would be fool enough to commit the same act?"

"Fool, she may not, but Riven here alone is brave enough to take part to apart this ship you so have trouble with."

"Have care to your words. I know of her feats of battle and proven worthy to wield that blade. The Emperor has given us this blessing, yes, but we must commit not to waste them. But a boarding party shall be met in terms. An Assault squad will aid your… chosen. Moving on,"

"I know what your capabilities, Riven," whispered my Prioress. "Make your sisters, and the Emperor, proud."

"Ave Imperator," I replied.

"—so then they will encircle the last survivors," continued Darius, "and finishing them, securing the area absolutely. Not a bad plan for a 'what-if'."

"Lord-Captain!" cried the low-ranking cadet.

"You don't have to yell, I'm here."

"The gun batteries, they're burning!"

"What?!"

We pushed our way toward the monitorium, and soon it is told truthfully with our eyes, the gun emplacement, filled with holes and fire as of a pot full of hellfire, is now collapsing. The barrels of the guns falling over the Orks, smashing their skulls and spilling their brain-meat. Every living thing there is running from the chaos that has struck them deeply.

"By God," the Lord-Captain spoke, "he actually done it!"

"Then," Captain Darius began, "we must act quickly. To your stations, brothers. Preparation is met in less than an hour, so use this time effectively, brothers. For the Emperor and the Imperium of Man."

"For the Emperor and the Imperium of Man!" we all praised.

And blessed be the Legionnaire. Before I left the bridge, I took one more look at the monitorium. I can't find him.

AT THE THUNDERHAWK, I checked my suit again. There is more than one way to find a chink with my Power Armour, and also, I haven't much practice with my Black Blade for 2 years now, not ever since… _Don't, just don't think of it. It was already too far gone to come back._

Suddenly, the ship shuddered as if we were hit directly to a mountain.

"Pilot," I called, "report."

"The rear engine is hit. We are rapidly losing altitude."

"Fly the ship to safety quickly." I quickly start fitting the Jump Pack.

"We are still far from the objective."

"You have done well, but you have underestimated the ability of a Sororitas."

I punched the button beside me and the hatch opened. Hot wind blew in, flaying my white hair as if electrified. Down below are numerous Ork ship firing as if randomly, but has shooting down more of our escort ships than we can bring them. Long lines of tracers spun like ribbons, and red laces… _Such beauty is there in glorious battle._

After praying for courage, I activated my pack an jumped from the Thunderhawk and aimed toward the Ork flagship, gliding away glancing shots that would have obliterated me even with my armour, not that I should let them. This kind of jumps seems just as similar to the rest, only difference was because there is an unprecedented turn of events that let us get this far.

"_If you find the Legionnaire," the Prioress said, "bring him to us. Alive, if possible."_

"_For a lowly sinner?"_

"_For a redeemer."_

Maneuvering from the blooms of exploding shells, the flagship is now on my sight. It's AA guns tracing my unstoppable descent, thanks to the Emperor's guidance. Now I pray again for strength to unleash His wrath against these abominable twats.

I aimed at the center of the deck, where the enemy is plenty and where I can show the strength I have asked. Nearing the target, like a jade bullet, I smashed through the reinforced deck, feet first, falling on a pile of ammunition. They must be crawling all over right now, but that would be the least of my problems. I stood undaunted and the hole that I made on the ceiling is now pouring Orks with cleavers. Taking out my Relic Blade, it hummed of limitless power as green energy spiked and formed around the broken blade, reforming it to its original foundation. I readied.

An Ork came wailing at me, and I let that end with one swipe, smashing its body against the tremendous force. They still grew restless even after what I have demonstrated in front of them. I slashed at the side, taking three out at once. I brought out my Bolter Pistol and let a whole clip, destroying their faces. Faces that are too ugly to be let alight, that is.

Roars of Jump Packs can be heard above, and I could tell it's the Blood Noxia's Assault Marines. The swarms of Orks at the deck ceased almost completely as the Assault squad disrupts the flow, leaving me alone with the finite patch of greenskins right around me. I swirled a wide arc with my blade, taking a whole group as I end it and reloading my pistol along the way around. I sprayed another arc, each bolt exploding and purging, taking out the whatever is at the end of my barrel. The last of the foul beasts hesitated when their numbers dwindle, and it gave me enough time to drop a Melta Bomb on an ammo pile near me, setting it to detonate in thirty.

As I holster my pistol, I informed the Assault Marines through my vox-bead of the Melta Bomb. I charged at a wall and smashed it with my blade. Without stopping, I charged and slashed another wall down, and another till I reached the ship's hull. With one final heave, the wall gave and I immediately touched the activation rune of my Jump Pack. I went through the hole and aimed my flight toward the now burning Ork base. Littered with Drop Pods, my brothers and sisters and all His servants now lay waste to all that will stand in the way of the Emperor.

"By His will…"

I HAVE TO settle at a nearby forest, far enough away from the Ork encampment. Night has settled and the cold wind blew through my Flak Vest, yet I cannot afford fire if the cost is detection. Even the slightest rumor will be my death sentence. I saw the Drop Pods of the Emperor's finest hours earlier, but their existence alone is nuclear fire to me, and they can conquer the place with or without my help. The planet is safe, for now.

Drinking water, which I presume is clean, from the river, I have begun to wonder what my next course of action would be. I could surrender myself to the Imperium and let them decide my fate, but I must do so in a couple of days. Surely, they wouldn't expect me to come out of their faces and act like there is no trouble. Let the heat of battles ebb, I say, when there are no surprises expecting at every corner. Yes, it will be suspicious for me to show myself after all the ruckus, but it's better to talk at first hand than be shot on sight. Maybe Lady Luck would help. Yet, I'm not sure if they saw my actions as of mine credited. But the best possible light on these circumstances is me returning to the fray once more to pay for my crimes.

I looked onto my hands through the moonlight pouring above, callouses and fungi dirtied and festering them. They etched on my skin like scars and tattoos. Because of it, my arm started throbbing as if I still fire an Autogun on each arm. And are numbing like combat drugs. It won't be usable if I let it go unprevented for another hour, and I may have to go into battle armless. I just can't believe He let me finish as a disarmed man. Tears dew my eyes, but I succeeded instilling them.

Taking my clothes off, except the collar, I bathe myself futilely in the river. It's cold, but considering that I'm a dead man, I might as well swim while I can. There my tears dwell without my accord. Diving under, I could cry without the consent of others, but only in His eyes. He understands me, He protects me, He dwells in me. And I die weak under his gaze. Immediately, I popped out of the water just in time for breath. Just in time also, to see the blurring figure on the riverside.

Eldar! It has to be them! I have seen their kind do so hide in plain sight, and I killed them just the same. I have witnessed their soul-seeking darts of psionic impregnation to many of my kin, and I have dodged barrages of them without a prick. And now is not the time to try one for myself.

I hurriedly swam ashore and tried reaching for my bag full of Stikbomz. One more meter till I found myself shoved to the ground. And then, I heard laughter. Feminine, and terribly, _terribly_ familiar. I looked up and saw a slender figure manifest out of air. Her black stealth suit flexed that could give any men, even me, a sexual drive. Her single braid like whip of a hair dangled with the Emperor's grace. But, by God-Emperor, I shouldn't be able to live after looking at a Callidus Assassin. If it weren't for that hideous black mask and those crimson red eyes, I don't think I would detach my eyes on such a sight.

"Wh-what—" I stammered, but was interrupted.

"Gone taking an evening dip?" her venomous voice rang like witches. "Well, well… Guess you deserve such after you destroyed them Orks."

"Come to deliver me to the Emperor's court for His judgement?" I was finally relieved of my shock, and so I stood. Dirtied and filthed once again by the fall, I head back to the river to wash as she eyes my bare arse. For once, can she tease another man? Surely, the naked body of an Astertes is much of an eyesore rather than a skinny and disgusting such as myself? I knew it she would find me before the others. Meet Lady Luck, who is a whore, and I seem to be made out of gold.

"But guv'ner!" she gasped sarcastically. "Look what treasures I found." I looked back, out of temptation it seems. She dangles a Lascarbine and a few belts of battery packs. Such tempting sight indeed. If she weren't part of the Imperium, I would have her mistaken as a witch. _That, _I mistook her the first time I saw the assassin, and the first time she harassed me. The only difference between from then and now is that she doesn't have her C'tan Phase Sword or her Neural Shredder, which she has been doing so after our first encounter. Must have hid them before approaching me as a sign of peace. But it doesn't mean she can't kill me without them. No, _no, _she rightfully can kill me without them.

But I still took the bait though, because I know who is she working for. "Whose unfortunate soul did you seduce this time?"

"They are already dead when I found them. The Kasrkin, that is. Died fighting the routed xenos army. There is a Heavy Plasma Gun on one of them if you care to share interest—"

"Too heavy for my taste. I can evade their looted without the aid of such equipments. Besides, their teknologee is easy to bypass."

"Yes, their teknologee." The assassin stepped inshore, approaching me carefully like a stalking predator, and all is better to not resist. "But what of disease?"

"What about them?"

"Turn around." I did so and saw her holding up a syringe. By God-Emperor, He has once again answered my prayers.

"Anti-fungal?" I tried reaching for it, but she grabbed my arm first and lowered it steadily to her waist-level.

"Let me…" She punctured my skin and injects the supersaturated fluid with gentleness. "Talon," she said my pet name, again, "Look to your armour, and it **will** protect you,"

"We guard it with our **lives**," I chant thy response.

"Your armour **guard** your life," she looks into my eyes.

"As it **has**, my fallen brethren."

"**Honour** the craft of death," she touched my chest, down to my extremities.

"We **only **serve the Emperor."

"Honour the battle gear of **the** dead,"

"We **ask** only…" she leans forward, "to serve…" and our mouths connect into an endless bliss. _Katarina…_

* * *

**Author's note: To be honest, I have no idea how these guys pray. Can anybody give a sample of their praying, a site or a blog or something? I'm new to the Warhammer series and I only got novels. **

**Check out next week for a new chapter.**


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